Hurting and Healing
by Breathe in Love
Summary: When teenage Parker's friend is raped, it changes their lives forever. NB: This story contains somewhat graphic violence and explicit language. Unless I am convinced by readers that I need to I consider this an 'M', I will consider it a 'T-plus' rating.
1. The Alleyway

**AN: **I've tried writing fanfiction before, and it didn't work out for me, mostly because I hated having to work within certain characters and their personalities. Then, Parker came along and chatted with my muse and I realized something: He had endless possibilities. I could make him older and let anything happen because his personality wasn't fully developed and his major life events hadn't happened yet. He could basically be my character if, from time to time, I wrestled with characters who would never be mine. Just what I needed…

A young brunette walked carefully down the street. It was an exceptionally quiet night, so no cars flew by her as the stars looked down on her as she trotted down this sidewalk, twitchy and alert, watching and listening for danger.

None came. She sighed, knowing there was only a block left to get home after she exited the alley she had just turned into. Warily, she pulled herself nearer to the building on her right, avoiding the trashcans leaning against the brick wall to her left, partly for the stench and partly because she knew a person could hide in or behind them.

She had hardly past the farthest one when she saw the shadow move out of the corner of her eye. She turned as the man flew toward her and knocked her hard to the cold, damp pavement. She screamed, loud and clear, and fought against him, punching and smacking and clawing at his already scarred face.

It was futile. The man was pure muscle, and her flailing did nothing to hurt him. He pinned her down, throwing all his weight over her. He was so heavy, bearing down so hard on her chest, that she could hardly take a breath, much less cry out for help. She made small, weak noises of protest, and it made him laugh, his breath, smelling of tobacco, alcohol, and rot, pouring out on her face.

"Go ahead and cry, you little bitch. It makes me so _hot._" Her whimpers stopped immediately. "Why won't you whine for me? Come on, whore, whine. Make noise for me, you slut!" As he yelled, he slammed her head against the pavement, harder and harder until she screeched with pain. He grinned sickly. "Yeah, you want to turn me on, don't you, bitch? Want to make me hard, don't you?"

He tore her blouse off her, then her pants, her underwear… Then he thrust into her, hard, fast, deep, uncaring, mean. She felt blood stain the ground and felt him spill into her once, twice, three, four… She stopped counting and looked at the sky and cried.

When he finally left, she was numb inside and hurt on the inside. She reached for her phone silently and hit number one on her speed-dial.

Parker Booth woke to the high but musical tone of his phone ringing. Tired as he was, he got out of bed to take his best friend's call. She hadn't been online to chat with him after work, nor had she called him before now. It was odd behavior, and he was worried.

"Marissa, it's three in the morning. What's wrong?"

"Parker… Somebody hurt me…"

He was fully awake in a moment and getting ready to leave the moment the words left her mouth.

"Where are you? I'm coming there. Stay on the phone, Marissa."

"I don't know… The alley… I was walking home…"

Parker had already grabbed his keys and had the door open when his father's voice stopped him.

"Parker, where the hell are you so in a rush to get to at three A.M.?"

"Dad! Marissa's hurt; I…" He couldn't finish his sentence before the older Booth cut him off.

"Get in the car. Now."

Parker did as he was told, trying to get Marissa to talk to him the best he could the whole time, but she merely began to sob.

The car ride was much too long for Parker's liking, even though his father had the siren and lights on and was driving about 70 miles per hour above the speed limit. They parked haphazardly near the alley Parker had directed his father to. The boy was out of the car and halfway to the girl curled up on the pavement, crying, by the time the car's engine was turned off.

Booth walked up to his son to find him kneeling down beside his friend, once again making an attempt to calm her with only his words. Parker looked up at the older man as he neared.

"She won't let me touch her. I tried to ask her what happened, but the only thing she'll say was that someone hurt her. I think… She might. have been…" His last word was merely a terrified whisper. "Raped."

"I already radioed for the local police."

Suddenly, sirens blared, and Parker and his father turned to look towards the source of the noise. Booth got up and walked towards the street to flag down the responders, and Parker turned back to his still crying friend.

"The police are here, Marissa. The ambulance will be here soon too. I'm here. We'll find out what happened to you." His face turned angry as he continued, "We'll find the man who did this to you and we'll put him away for good. We won't let him do this to anyone else. I promise, Marissa. I promise."

He was still muttering "I promise" as two cops walked up to him. By then, Marissa had let him hold her hand. He comfortingly rubbed his thumb across it as one of the cops knelt down to speak with him.

"I'm Detective Bill Johnson. This is my partner, Detective Gloria Roberts." He gestured to a woman standing behind Parker. "How did you know she was here?"

"Marissa's my friend. She called me."

"Can you step away from her for a moment? I need to ask you a few questions, and Detective Roberts needs to talk to Marissa."

Parker nodded and released his friend's hand to go to the end of the alley and talk to the investigator. From here, he could see an ambulance coming up the street. There was also about five men and women unpacking things from a van labeled with "Metropolitan !" He turned his sad, scared gaze back on the policeman as he started talking.

"I need to know your name."

"I'm Parker Christian Booth."

As the teen answered the man's questions, his mind barely registered what his mouth was saying: it was more focused on the health of his friend.

_I'd just like to point out, after the teeny-tiny amount of research that I've done, what a widespread and horrible problem sexual assault is. It has marked, undeniable effects on the victim throughout his or her life. One in every __**three**__ women will be sexually assaulted in her lifetime, one in every __**seven**__ boys will be sexually abused before his eighteenth birthday, and one in every __**four**__ girls will be sexually abused before she is eighteen. As the daughter of one of those four girls myself, I know how scarring this is. My mother recently divorced husband number two, and both spouses were bad choices. Much of the therapy she's had and the self-help books she's read have been at least indirectly related to her trauma. She can't sleep well, especially at night, she's always worried she'll be attacked, and she still can't relinquish control of her life to someone else. Not only has it affected her life, it's affected mine. It needs to change. If you are sexually assaulted, __**report it.**__ Don't blame yourself. Don't let __**anyone**__ get away with this. Work to make other people aware of this. Write to newspapers. Write to governing officials; tell them to make sure sex offenders serve out their full terms in prison. Tell your friends, and let them know you're a safe place if they are ever sexually assaulted. Know what various types of sexual assault. Please, please, please help stop this violent, personal, hateful crime._


	2. The Hospital

**AN: **Thank you to everyone who has added either me or this story to their alerts or reviewed! You keep me going when I want to give up.

Sitting in a plastic chair at four in the morning, Parker came to a rather uncomfortable conclusion: The waiting area of an emergency room is never empty. Even more unsettling for him was the fact that, other than a receptionist curtly asking for clarification on some of the paperwork he'd filled out for Marissa, the room was as silent as if he really were alone among the ugly speckled tiles and the harsh smell of disease trying to be masked by antiseptic.

He absolutely could not stand it any longer. He rose to his feet and paced back and forth, back and forth, across the room, forcing his tired legs to move. For about a minute, the movement eased his nervous energy, until the woman sitting at the desk interrupted him with a condescending tone.

"Sir, you need to stop that. We can't have you upsetting anyone else."

Parker glared at the woman for a moment before he sat down again with an impatient sigh. He hadn't heard anything from the nurses and doctors who would enter or exit the double doors at the opposite end of the room from the rows of chairs he was sitting in, the portal to the rooms and beds overflowing into the halls of the emergency wing of George Washington Memorial Hospital. He wondered if it was taking too long for someone to tell him what would happen next. He was so very worried for his friend, and, left without another way, he bowed his head and closed his eyes.

_Lord Almighty, please let her be all right. Please let her recover from this. Heavenly Father, please don't let her drive me away be cause of this. Please protect her. And, please, God, please let them find and catch the son of a bitch that did this to her. (Sorry for the cussing, Lord, but I think you'll agree that it was accurate.) Amen._

As a tear fell from his eyes, he crossed himself and drew in a shaky breath. Then he bowed his head again to ask for the help of Saint Agatha, patron of rape victims.

Marissa felt ill. She felt like, had she not already emptied her stomach, she would be vomiting copiously. As she sat on a cracked rubber mattress atop a tiny bed, the pale grayness of her skin and the nauseous look on her face manifested the tossing of her stomach. She cautiously followed the movements of the nurse in the room, arms folded over her chest and all but unmoving. The nurse, who had previously introduced herself as Alice, finally finished preparing herself and her equipment. With a neutral face and tone, she began talking to Marissa.

"Now, I'm going to do a rape kit so that we can enter it into evidence when this goes to trial, okay?" Marissa nodded. "Then, I'm going to catalogue your injuries—cuts, bruises, scrapes—so that we can began treating them immediately, and I'll collect any DNA I can find of your attacker." Marissa once again nodded her understanding. "After that, I'll have to decide if you have a concussion, and, if you do, how severe it is, and at that point, you're going to have some X-rays taken to determine if you have any internal injuries, including broken bones." Marissa nodded once more. "All right. Before I start, do you have any questions?"

"Will I have to stay here?"

"Not in the E.R., but you might have to stay at the hospital for a few days, depending upon your injuries."

"Okay. You can start."

Alice began her examination, understanding and respecting the fact that Marissa didn't want to talk. As the nurse scribbled various notes down on her chart, the young woman stopped paying attention to the present and let her mind wander, and when she did, it walked start to Parker, no turns, meanders, or dilly-dallying. After the first things that came to her mind when she thought of him (something along the lines of _what a cutie _and _really, really annoying_), Marissa felt a twang of pain knowing that he must absolutely be worried sick not knowing what was going on. The paramedics had almost needed a crowbar to pry him away from her bedside once they had unloaded her from the ambulance. They'd finally persuaded him to wait with the rest of the families of patients in the emergency room instead of staying by her side during this. He had a heroic, loving streak a mile wide in him, and though she was glad to be the recipient of it, she was also thankful he wasn't here right now. She wasn't supposed to be wounded or easy prey. She couldn't let Parker see her like this, even if he would never think of using it to hurt her.

Alice's voice brought Marissa out of her introspective daze. "I'm done with my external exam. I'll take you up to radiation and then I'll run the rape kit down to the lab."

"You couldn't find any possible sources of DNA?"

"I'm sorry, Marissa, but no. I hate to ask this, but would you like me to schedule a pregnancy test with the local crisis pregnancy center for you?"

Marissa hesitated. She hadn't thought of the possibility that that demon could have gotten her pregnant. Still, it was better to know as soon as possible if he had.

"Yes." Her voice was incredibly weak.

"Okay. Come with me for your X-rays, Marissa."

"Family of Marissa Roberts?"

Parker's head snapped up so fast at the nurse's words that Alice momentarily wondered if it was possible for him to have broken his own neck.

"That's me. How is she? Where is she? Is she going to have to stay here? When can I see her?"

"Slow down, sir. Marissa should be okay. She has a moderate concussion, a lot of bruises and lacerations, and some defensive hairline fractures, so we're going to keep her here for a while, but she's young and nothing's too bad, so she should heal up nicely. She's been admitted already, and she asked to see you. If you follow me, you can visit her, but only for a short while. She needs to get her rest."

Parker reluctantly agreed to keep his visit short and then trailed after the nurse as she led him to the private third floor bedroom that his friend was in. Marissa was staring blankly at the wall opposite the door when he approached.

"Marissa?" He knocked on the doorframe. She turned, slightly startled, and smiled weakly.

"Hey Parker. Sit." He pulled up a chair next to her bed. "Thanks for coming…"

"As if I could do any less."

"True. This is Mr. I Have a Pathological Need to Be a Hero we're talking about here." She made another attempt at a smile, but then her demeanor grew serious. "But, really, Parker, thanks."

"You need to go to sleep. I'll stay here as long as I can, okay?"

"Thank you for taking care of me, Parks." She then closed her eyes, afraid as she was of a nightmare. She was tired, and he was there. She'd be okay. "Night."

"Night."

He held her hand as she drifted off, and continued holding it as she slept (not completely peacefully, but less fitfully than he'd expected for what she just went through) until five, when the nurse's aide shooed him out because it was past visiting hours and it was time for vital signs to be recorded. With a kiss on the forehead and a whispered goodbye, Parker unenthusiastically left to wait outside for a ride home.


	3. The Hospital Room

**AN:** Oh my gosh, I am _**sooooo**_ sorry about the delay. Jeez, a month. And I was doing so good before that. Forgive me? Thanks to everyone who reviewed and put me on alert: you're great!

Three days after her admission to George Washington Memorial Hospital, Marissa Roberts could not sleep. Her nights had sometimes been fitful, but the comfort of a caring friend nearby had eased the tossing and turning before.

Now, however, she couldn't get a wink of rest. It was partly because a nurse or an aide was almost constantly in her room, counting respirations or taking her blood pressure or giving her medicine… It seemed any excuse to wake her up would do, even if it had nothing to do with what she'd come in with.

(Then again, that one frumpy old nurse had put it quite well when she said if Marissa wanted rest, she should go home, but if she wanted healed, she needed to stay at the hospital.)

The other factor in Marissa's lack of sleep was much more pressing. She was going home the next day.

It sparked mild excitement to think of finally getting out. Hospitals always smelled weird, a strange mix of antiseptic, floor wax, and pestilence. Besides, she was rather tired of sitting in a rather uncomfortable bed, either staring at the wall or the television.

Excited as she might have been at seeing her home and meager family again, Marissa was also overwhelmingly afraid of facing the real world again. Within these white walls, she hadn't been forced to defend herself against those who accused her of anything less than innocence, and Parker had visited her daily, sitting with her after school, doing what homework he could while mitigating the pain and loneliness of someone he cared about. He'd missed both a Saturday morning practice and a big football game, thus forfeiting his place as star quarterback to care for a friend.

She shook her head and grinned thinking about Sunday. He'd drug in his dad and step-mom to see her, and the coach's rather emotional message on the Booth answering machine came up in casual conversation.

"_And it certainly sounded like he was sniffling when he howled, 'That kid played bench for a reason! You'll never make one of my teams again!'" Mr. Booth finished. Marissa had fixed Parker with an intimidating stare, Parker had stopped yelling in protest and was looking at the ceiling dejectedly, and Dr. Brennan-Booth was stifling a laugh while elbowing her husband._

"_So, Parks. I thought football came first." He glared. "Kicked off the team. For me. How sweet." Glare. "You liiiiike me."_

"_Wha… Buh… I..." He sputtered. She laughed. Both parent and step-parent watched amusedly with eyebrows raised and grins covered._

"_Really, though, you don't have to spend every extra waking moment with me." She winked. "Wouldn't want those grades falling any more."_

_Parker looked her straight in the eye. "Yes, I do."_

_Now the one blushing, partly because this exchange was going on in front of his parents, Marissa rolled her eyes to hide her embarrassment._

"_And my grades aren't that bad just because I'm not a Type-A personality. They're B's."_

_She snorted and quietly added, "Yeah, except for those three C's."_

_Their audience couldn't hold in the laughter after that._

Then the amusement faded as Marissa remembered why she'd been thinking about Parker at all. Leaving… It meant pain. She'd have to relive her nightmare when she told classmates and teachers how she'd gotten the bruises and cuts spider-webbing across her face and arms, when she told the school nurse why she might have to take anti-anxiety medications while at school. She'd have to see those streets she walked that night again.

Marissa didn't even want to think of that alley where she'd left different than the clean, unstained girl who had walked the pavement uncluttered with cops and sirens eternities before, but she knew she'd have to look at that street where a monster had run off into the shadows after stealing from her all she held dear: her purity, her strength, her unconquerable will.

A wave of nausea not from her bruised gray matter washed over her at the thought of that evil crime. She heard now the voice of Parker's step-mom saying why she fought against anonymous death, and Marissa couldn't help but shake her head as she wiped away a tear.

_What that viper did to me was worse than any killer. He stole who I am without allowing me to release my memories. _ She shuddered. _He left me with so many pictures of who I was and what he did and I have to live with the power he still has over me simply because __**I still hurt from what he did.**_

Making a desperate and failing attempt to shake those thoughts from her mind, Marissa turned her head to the side and let the tears fall silently as she stared a blank wall.

_I should have seen it coming. I should have known. Female intuition's supposed to prevent stuff like that. I should have realized something was wrong. I never should have walked down that damn street. Why didn't I just let Parker pick me up from work and drive me home? It wouldn't have been that bad. Hell, it would have been nice. Time with a friend. Time in a car with a goddamned working air conditioner. But no. My fucking pride gets in the way and I won't let a friend waste a couple gallons of gas every week to drive me home, so I end up raped and battered. What is that, divine providence? It's fucking wrong. Why is it that shit like this always happens to me? As if it wasn't enough that I never knew my dad and mom's never home and I probably won't be able to go to college, now this. What the fuck did I do to deserve this? What the hell would Parker's "just" and "loving" god have to say about this? That I brought it upon myself with sinful pride? That what happened to me was my fault? Fucking explain it, God._

No answer came. As though she was actually expecting a brillant sign in the sky, lit by silent lightning, Marissa broke into sobs that racked her body at the quiet.

No more long delays like that one!!!! I promise.


	4. Going Home

**AN: Dammit. Making promises will get me into trouble every single time. I'm so sorry. Again. No Booths for me, I guess. I don't even get a single Zach. Anyway, on with the story. (Oh, and the nightmare is in italics.)**

Sleep had finally overtaken her after the second hour of sobbing. Nightmares had come, as they always did, but this one was different than the others. This one hadn't just made her wake up crying: it had left her shaking with fear.

_A darkened hospital corridor stretched behind and in front of her forever. Her nose smelled garbage, urine, sweat, rot. This was not the scent of a place for healing. There was a sound behind her. Before she had time to be startled by the noise, a hand was over her mouth. She tried to scream and yell, someone would hear her here, but the sound stuck in her throat, stifled by her attacker's hand._

_She tried to jerk and punch and kick, but her limbs refused to do her bidding. The attacker shoved her to the ground, and she took her chance to run. Her legs were leaden, and her feet betrayed her, dragging on the tile and tripping her every chance they got. She risked a look over her shoulder and saw a hulking shadow lumbering after her, not even worried enough to hasten his speed. He knew he would catch her. She was slow, and she would tire._

_She couldn't look backwards for long. When she looked back, Parker was standing there. He said nothing, but looked so sad. She tried to scream at him, tried to make him help her, but her mouth wouldn't form coherent words. She reached for him, expecting him to reach back, but he just stood there with that pathetic look. She ran to him, telling her legs to go faster, faster, __**faster**__, get to Parker, get to Parker NOW._

_He never got closer to her, and finally she knew she had to save herself. She turned the knobs on all the doors she passed, but they were locked. She was sleepy. She couldn't run anymore, no more, too tired. Her legs gave out, mere jello beneath her. The shadow was on her now, yelling at her, hurting her, and facing no fight._

_It wasn't what hurt most._

_Parker stood watching silently._

The clock on the wall read five-twenty when Marissa finally gathered the strength to uncurl herself from the shaking, shivering ball she had become after waking from that nightmare. For two more hours, she sat awake, blankly staring at her feet under the blanket, reassuring herself that the dream made no sense.

It was merely a concoction of her imagination, a mixture of her thoughts and the events of that day.

Parker would never let her get hurt, never stand there and watch while she tried to escape from someone who tried to hurt her.

It didn't mean a thing.

When she saw that blonde face again at seven-thirty, she still wasn't sure she had convinced herself.

"She'll be okay. She's strong."

"It's not her I worry about, Booth. Parker's a lot like you, and that means Marissa's going to be very well taken care of. Unfortunately, that means Parker is going to take this very hard."

"Are you comparing the two of them to us?"

"That is exactly what I am doing, and don't even try to tell me you don't see the similarity. They argue, they insult each other, they can hardly stand each other sometimes, but they care. And Parker, like you, is going to feel horrible about the fact that someone he loves got hurt."

Booth sighed. Bones was right. He and his son both had hero-complexes. (Although they were far more likely to refer to said complexes as 'strong senses of justice'.)

"He'll deal with it. It'll be a slow process, and he will very likely become impassioned with finding the bastards who do things like _that_ as a by-product of dealing, but he will. And he's going to feel the need to be even more protective of her than he already is."

"So, basically, he'll become obsessed with keeping her safe, which will annoy her very, very, very much?"

"I do not obsess!"

She chuckled and put on her best (fake) innocent face.

"When did we begin talking about you?"

Her laughter nearly drowned out his indignant snort.

"Marissa, you've been really quiet this morning. Did something happen after I left?"

"Really bad dream, that's all." She kept her head pressed against the cool glass next to her head before deciding that no, he wouldn't lie to her, and yes, she could just come out and say it. She turned her weary face to the driver. "Parks, you would never just stand by while I got hurt, right?"

Between jerking the wheel and looking at her, he nearly wrecked the car after her question. "Of course not! Jesus, how would I live with myself if I did? What the hell made you think I would do something like that, Marissa?"

Smiling at the mixed shock and gentleness in his voice at his last sentence, she merely turned her head back to the window. "Bad dream. That's all."

---

No promises, but I think the next part is in my head, and I'm hoping I can get it up tomorrow.


	5. The House

**AN:** Jeez-us, you see what I mean about the danged promises? I even had writing on my freakin' to-do list yesterday, but did I? Nooo. Dern it.

---

Marissa almost had an insane little sliver of hope that, since Parker had already been inside her home and met her family, he wouldn't feel the need to escort her inside and make sure she was okay before leaving.

As he put his car in park, she asked herself why she had had such a silly notion.

"Parker, I'm rather confident in my ability to get into my house and take my bag into my room." She got out of the car and walked around to the back of the car to find him taking out her duffel and closing the trunk. She tried to take the bag from him. He snatched it away.

"Nonsense." Her answering eye-roll could have won the US Championship of Eye-Rolling.

As the pair walked through the weedy and un-mown lawn, a scrawny twelve-year-old boy emerged from the house, running to Marissa and entangling her in a hug.

"Hi, Marissa! I missed you!" He looked at Parker as he started walking back up the concrete steps into his home. "Hi, Parker."

The older boy answered with a smile, "Hey, Matt."

Marissa, too, was smiling. She loved her little brother, loath as she was to show it sometimes. "Where's Mom?"

"On the couch, sleeping," the kid answered, in a tone that implied the question, _'Where else would she be?'_.

"So you haven't eaten breakfast yet?"

"Nope, I was waiting for you to get home."

Parker decided this would be the time to invite himself to a breakfast. "You know, I haven't eaten in, like, two hours."

Marissa snorted. "Well, then it's been _forever_ since your last meal, hasn't it? As if I didn't figure you'd be staying anyway." She gestured with her head. "In."

Three plates of toasted frozen waffles and three glasses of milk later, the trio were happily munching in content silence.

Matt finished first, having eaten with the zeal of a young child.

"Go put your plate in the sink and then wash your hands. They're all sticky. You know what? Wash your face while you're at it."

The child did so, leaving Parker and Marissa alone at the dining room table. Both finished in a few minutes, and Parker deposited their plates in the sink. Once neither had food, the silence became slightly uncomfortable. Marissa gathered up her courage and broke it first.

"So, Parker." His eyes went from the floor up to hers, which only seemed to make it harder for Marissa to get the words out of her throat. "I, um, have an appointment next Saturday. To, uh, see if… If…" The words barely came out as a whisper. "If I'm pregnant."

"What time?"

"Eight."

"I'll be here at seven-thirty."

"Are you sure your mom won't mind? You're supposed to be with her next weekend."

"You know what, Marissa? I'm pretty sure she'll understand. And if she doesn't, I'll stay here anyway."

"Such rebellion!" She smiled even as she said it.

Still grinning, she got up to put her duffel bag, discarded on the dining room floor, in her room. Parker caught her with a gentle hand on her arm as she left.

"Oh, and I'll be by at seven to take you to school tomorrow." Her smile faded.

"Park--" He cut her off with a hand on her lips.

"Seven. You will not face anyone alone tomorrow. You will allow me to protect you. No arguments. Kapeesh?"

She glared, but she knew there was no getting out of this. Besides, she couldn't exactly say she was being totally honest if she said she didn't want him to baby her like this. She sighed dramatically anyway.

"Kapeesh."

He flashed her one of those knee-weakening smiles he learned from his dad.

"Then I'll see you tomorrow. Bye-bye, Rissa!"

Feeling the need to have the last word, she shouted at his retreating form, "Do not call me that!"

She then took her duffel bag to her room, a little happy, a little angry, but mostly confused. Why was her heart going faster than normal? And why the hell were her lips tingling?

---

**AN2:** If I offer you any of the Bones gang covered in chocolate, will you review?


	6. The School

**AN: I wasn't going to update this. But, apparently, when I am guilted enough I will do anything. I will make a point of not posting a chapter until the next one is written, so that I actually finish this story. (Keep in mind that it was started mid-season 3.) And for those of you asking me if M. is pregnant... You'll know when she knows!**

Marissa wasn't used to covering up bruises with clothes or make-up. She was one of the few kind seniors who showed underclassmen how to get their lockers open and what bathrooms got cleaned when, but everyone knew she lived on the poor side of town and that she didn't take shit from anybody. The only people who would have messed with her didn't because she was Parker's best friend, and in high school, it doesn't matter whether or not you like the football players, you do not piss them off.

She kept layering on the tan liquid, but more than anything it just made her cuts itch. _Screw it._ She splashed water on her face and washed it all off. Everyone would have known anyway. What was the point of trying to pretend she hadn't been hurt? She sighed and walked to the couch. Bus brakes squealed outside, the steps squeaked, and Matt yelled good-bye through a card-boarded window.

Marissa's head began to ache dully in the morning silence. Mom left for her first job, then Matt's bus huffed and puffed its way to the elementary school. _Wow, another year and he'll be starting middle school. When I start college, if I get a scholarship._ In five minutes she had to leave to catch her bus, but she had five extra minutes today. Ten minutes of silence when what she needed was a distraction.

And she'd just returned the book her boss had recommended. _Damn._ She dug in her bag, grabbed an asprin and a water bottle. Pop, swig, gulp. She couldn't think of today. Didn't want to think about how many times she'd have to tell everyone.

Two days until she would know if the unthinkable had happened. What if it had? The three of them were barely getting by as is, and Marissa would have had to quit school to get a second job. She didn't have health insurance, either. She couldn't bring a child into her poor, white-trash world.

But God knows her chances to just get an abortion and forget the child's existence had ever darkened her thoughts were about as high as the chances that there would be a snowstorm in hell next week. It wasn't the baby's fault it's father hurt her. It didn't deserve to be destroyed because Marissa couldn't care for it.

So adoption. Give the baby away to someone else. A family that wasn't broken or struggling. Maybe even a family with a parent who didn't have to work. And hopefully a family that would let Marissa visit when she got out of this mess of poverty. That we she could make sure she gave the baby a better life than she'd had.

The low whistle of one the old hybrids got as loud as it could get and then silenced when the car stopped by the curb. Marissa grabbed her bag and books as she rose off the couch.

She forced the door open (it stuck when Matt shut it too hard), locked it behind her, wiggled and jiggled to get her key back from the lock, and attempted to make her smile look genuine before she turned around. After she settled in the front seat of the little egg-shaped car, she opened her mouth to share her plan, then shut it when she realized something was wrong. Parker's eyes were red-rimmed and he was pallid.

"Uh, are you trying to convince people that we're zombies? Because you look like shit."

He started the car back up and stifled a yawn as he made a U-turn that was probably not legal.

"I didn't sleep great."

"Uh-huh. That's my line, blondie."

"I had nightmares. I don't want to talk about it."

"Makes two of us. Quid pro quo, yes? I'll start." He shrugged. "I dreamed that I was re-shelving books at work, and when I turned around there was bloody pink satin all bundled up on the cart, but it rolled away from me and started wailing. Then the books started throwing themselves at me and I heard evil men laughing and woke up sweating and yelling."

She looked at him when she finished. He glanced at her. She raised an eyebrow. He looked at the road. She coughed.

"Okay, fine, Marissa! I was outside the hospital and I could see that the floor you were in was on fire but the nurse wouldn't believe me and the security guards wouldn't let me in."

"I'm sorry."

"We're here. Not your fault."

"Well, then don't get mad when I try to talk--" The bell cut her off.

"We're late for homeroom! C'mon, would you?"

---

Most of Marissa's day consisted of recounting something she would rather not have remembered and being stared at. For someone who ordinarily shied away from being anyway near center stage, this unwarranted attention on a day when she was really stressed was about to send Marissa over the edge. She grabbed fruit juice and a candy bar from the vending machines and darted out to the benches in the open courtyard.

And then _guess who_ appeared with two trays and settled down next to her. _What is he, a goddamn stalker?_

"Marissa. You are under a lot of stress right now. Candy is not going to help you keep up your strength. Eat your lunch." He set the tray of gushy public school reconstituted goop in her lap. And stole her candy.

"Give it back, you cad!" He did. It was better than her being enraged at him. "You never eat lunch with me anyway. Why do you care now?"

"Because you're in too delicate an emotional state to be alone right now. Now eat. It isn't great but it is better than candy and sugar-water."

"Possibly. And it has juice in it, jerk."

"Granted. Also, pushy and invasive, but not a jerk." He poked her in the ribs. "Don't just stir it, eat!"

"Alright, I'm eating! See?" She shoveled a spork-ful of what may have been mashed potatoes into her mouth. And added, under her breath, "What a nosy, over-bearing _ass._"

**AN: By the way, since this would be taking place in about 2019, the "old hybrid" I am referring to is a Toyota Prius from 2004 or so.**


	7. The Test

**AN: Quick reader poll-- should I change the rating to 'M'? I feel like I've used a lot of foul language and, re-reading, the violence is a little graphic, but I think it's just a T+. Please give me some input.**

---

Thursday died into Friday, and the rituals of a poor white family's morning started again. Bright and early, cigarette smoke followed a hung-over old woman down the street to the bus stop to get to her first job. Her daughter gets up and readies herself and her brother for school. The floors moan under their weight, sirens sing as they always do, and rickety pipes rattle as they pull in water tinted brown from rust.

Marissa moved a little easier today, knowing that today would be like yesterday, uneasy and maddening but not nerve-wracking. She was not happy, not unafraid, but she could go on.

Her classmates and teachers didn't know what to say, but now they knew what to expect, and they looked away, left Marissa alone, went on with their lives. She appreciated it. All she wanted was to take her notes, do her work, and let school distract her. She was safe there. No one got on campus, no one got off it. And Parker was there. He didn't suddenly treat Marissa differently, but he didn't act like nothing had happened, either. And, if she was honest, he made her feel safe, and she liked knowing that someone cared about her.

Three o'clock came too quickly, and Marissa was shooed out for two days. She sat and played cards with Matt until their mother got off work. They ate what passed for dinner, then their mother had another beer to calm her nerves before leaving for her second job, smoke trailing behind her.

Marissa had just settled down to read after Matt fell asleep when someone knocked on the door.

---

Every other Friday, the children of divorcees pack up to visit their other parent. Parker packed with them, but this time he would not be going where he was expected. He turned off his cell phone, zipped up his bag, and trotted down the stairs with it over his shoulder. He stopped at the door and yelled good-bye to this family for another weekend. One "bye", one "au revoir", and one "see ya" chorused back at him, and Parker trotted out the door and to his car.

He was supposed to arrive at his mother's apartment in Maryland in about twenty minutes. In ten, he was standing on Marissa's doorstep.

She opened the door and looked at him as if he were completely insane for a few minutes before he spoke.

"You gonna let me in or just stare at me?"

This woke her from her catatonic shock.

"Why the hell are you here?"

"Can I come inside before I tell you?"

She opened the door wide enough to let him past, and he plopped on the couch as if it were his.

"Well? What are you doing here?"

"Escorting you to your appointment tomorrow."

"That is an explanation for why you would be here tomorrow."

"You're right."

The conversation stalled as Marissa waited for an answer.

"Sowhy are you here_ tonight._"

"Because I felt that my mother doesn't need to know why I need to stay in D.C. this weekend. Besides, I can't stand the newest boyfriend. He wants me to play tennis with him. As a bonding ritual or some crap like that."

Marissa examined him for an uncomfortable amount of time, and then finally came to a decision and shook her head.

"Fine. You can sleep on the couch."

"Great! Now can I use your phone?"

---

Neither any Brennans nor any Booths have ever been particularly peaceful people, so it goes without saying that when people of the two families sit down to eat together, it will not go to plan. Unless, of course, chaos and confusion are a part of the dinner plans.

Temperance Brennan-Booth has learned to plan for everything. When Parker's mother called in a rage about something that normally would have been something Parker said, but in light of the circumstances was probably him not showing up, Tempe merely motioned her husband outside the restaurant to take his call, and then sat down with her ten-year-old daughter at their table and took out her cell phone to wait for Parker's call. She told Joyce that after Parker called she would have to go outside and to stay put while she did.

Her phone vibrated moments later, and she answered without needing to look at the caller ID.

"Hello, Parker."

"She's already chewing Dad out?"

"Yes. You're at Marissa's?"

"Yep."

"Sleeping on the couch?"

"Uh-huh."

"To take her to the clinic in the morning?"

"Yeah. At eight."

"And you'll call your mother afterwards?"

"Yes, ma'am. Love you, Mom. Bye."

"I love you, too, Parker. Bye."

Then Tempe flipped her phone shut, reminded her daughter not to leave the table, and walked outside.

---

Saturday brought anxiety with it, and uneasiness fell over breakfast like a curtain. Marissa's mother had crawled in later than she normally did, had a hissy-fit about Marissa having someone in the house while she wasn't home, and then fell asleep in her room with a six-pack. Marissa and Parker served themselves toast and scrambled eggs just as Matt walked in, woken by his mother's yelling.

"Hi, Parker. You're really good at upsetting people, aren't you?"

"The very best! You want some eggs?"

He shook his head. "Just toast."

Marissa took her last swallow of orange juice and spoke as she poured herself another glass.

"Parker's taking me to see a doctor this morning. Can you keep yourself out of trouble until about nine-thirty?"

"Yeah. The teacher gave me next week's homework so I can start on it early.

Parker finished his breakfast and starting washing the dishes they'd used.

"Okay. Well, it's twenty till eight, so I'm gonna go get dressed and then we're leaving."

"Bye, Marissa."

Matt walked to his room as Marissa downed her juice and stretched.

"Oh, Jesus, I gotta pee."

She ran to the bathroom and then to her room. Fifteen minutes later she and Parker sat in the hopeless crisis pregnancy center waiting room.

It was a grey little square room with dismal speckled linoleum that peeled up at the corners. A particle-board desk with a clipboard on it sat by the wall opposite the door to the outside. A fat woman sat in a folding chair behind the desk, fanning herself with another clipboard. A row of the same metal folding chairs flanked the door, and a coffee table with a couple old magazines sat under the wall to the right of the desk. The coffee-table wall had a little window just big enough for an air conditioner to sit in. The door across from the windowed wall was held open by a brick, and it led to a narrow white hallway with a few rooms that came off it.

Marissa signed her name on the clipboard on the desk, and the fat receptionist handed her a clipboard with a form she needed to fill out. She grabbed a pen from the jar sitting on the desk and sat down by Parker. He was silent as she wrote. _Name. Social security number. Birthdate. Emergency contact. Doctor._

Her chair creaked in protest as Marissa got up and gave the fat woman her clipboard back. The receptionist rose and waddled to the door, and wrote something on a clipboard hanging on the wall.

Parker and Marissa sat side by side in nervous silence with the hum of the air conditioner and the smell of sweat surrounding them. A scary-thin woman with stringy blond hair exited one of the rooms down the hall and walked out of the waiting room with her head down, muttering to herself and shivering.

A minute later, an older woman walked out of the same room and stopped at the door to the hall. She read the clipboard on the wall and then twisted to poke herself through the door.

"Marissa?"

She rose, looked back at Parker to make sure he was coming, and then walked toward the woman in the door. Marissa smiled a weak little smile at her, and the woman smiled back. She gestured at a door.

"Right in here, dear."

Marissa walked in and sat on yet another rubber bed with a paper sheet, and Parker sat in a folding chair across from it. The nurse washed her long, veiny hands and sat down on a rolling stool. She turned to Marissa, and suddenly the girl realized just how much time had worn on this woman. From the silver of her hair, she seemed in her late fifties, but her face said she was ten years younger than that. Her eyes spoke of weariness sleep could not fix and pain long past. This woman, beautiful as her tall frame must once have been, did her job, however much it hurt, because she had been in the same place, needing what she now gave to others.

"What are you here for today, Marissa?"

"I, uh... I was. Raped. And I need a pregnancy test."

"I'm so sorry, but I have to ask when."

"Last week. Very early Sunday morning."

"Okay. Today I'm going to draw a vial of blood, and then the results will come in the mail in a few days. Have you already been tested for HIV and other STI's?"

"Yes. All negative, but I have to be re-tested next month."

"I'll get started then. Would you rather I draw the blood from your right arm or left?"

**AN: Wow, long chapter. Next one soon.**


	8. The Results

**AN: My mom made a cameo in the last chapter, by the way. (The nurse.) This is the chapter you've all been waiting for! Enjoy. I eagerly await your thoughts.**

---

Time is not a solid object. It is continuous stream, ebbing and flowing and warping whatever it touches. When it wants, it passes quicker than light, but it can also drip by so sickeningly slowly that it never seems to move, and human will is never enough to bend it to our liking. By Time's own rules, the more anxious someone is for something, the slower the stream will trickle.

For a teenager waiting for the results of a pregnancy test, three days are three eternities in limbo, waiting for a single page of salvation or damnation.

Marissa's nights were filled with night terrors and sleep paralysis in the few hours she slept instead of tossing about in a web of fear and impatience. There was no distraction great enough in her days to keep her from hearing the unanswered wails of a baby. She couldn't hear her teachers' lectures, and more than once she fell asleep in class. She would start re-shelving books at work, then forgot what she was doing and stand staring at the wall, seeing herself homeless and desperately trying to give someone her hungry, dirty infant.

The fifth time she checked the mail on Tuesday, her search finally bore fruit. She sat on her front steps, the little white rectangle shaking in her weak hand. After twenty minutes, she finally found the strength to open it. She pulled out the paper. Unfolded it once. Twice. Name at the top, date she'd had her test, what test she'd had. Then the eight little letters that wrote a life's story.

POSITIVE.

Marissa knelt down and vomited onto the ground as she cried.

---

The shower was running, and it made the pipes rattle and creak like arthritic joints. Steam was starting to fill the moldy little bathroom as Marissa sat in the bathtub with a steak knife in her hand. She pressed the blade to her wrist. Her stomach rolled over as she saw a drop of blood appear and she looked down at it.

A little teeny human in there. Only a few hundred cells right now, but they had dug into her uterus to grow and change and shape themselves. Half of those cells were from a demon.

The baby would look like him, wouldn't it? She remembered the sketch the Metro police's artist had drawn. His eyes were pure greed and evil and hatred. Ugly, ugly eyes for an ugly, ugly nature.

Half him.

Half him.

But that was only half. The other half was her. And how much did she believe in the power of genetics upon a person's nature, anyway? It wasn't the baby's fault she was created against her mother's will. She was half Marissa, too. And she'd hear Marissa's voice while she was becoming a little human child.

The realization slammed into her like a car without brakes hitting a steel wall. She'd been charged with bringing this child to the world and making her good. Marissa stood and the knife clanged to the floor, her fears dropping away with it.

"My rapist hurt me. My baby didn't."

---

Normally, Parker found history homework dull. He never saw the point of studying and memorizing events in the past when they couldn't be changed. But by the third day of waiting and waiting and waiting, he was ready to throw his textbook out the window after reading the same passage six times without remembering one word.

His phone sang a few shrill notes and he snatched it off the desk and smacked it to his ear in one move.

"Marissa?"

"Can you please come here?"

"Is... Are you-"

"I really do not think this is a matter for the telephone! Get here now! Jesus."

"Okay, I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Alright." Then a beep sounded to let Parker know the call was over. He knew something was wrong. Marissa would get sarcastic sometimes, but she'd never yelled at him before.

When he got to her house, she was sitting on the couch, her hair wet and clinging to her head and neck, looking at the floor but not really seeing it. She didn't look at him when the door opened, so Parker sat down beside her. He put her hand on her forearm to get her to look at him. She sighed.

"I'm pregnant."

Even with all the situations he'd talked himself out, Parker didn't know what to say.

"I should give her up for adoption."

"But you don't want to?" She looked back at the floor.

"I should. I can't give her the life she deserves." She hadn't said it, but it was all the answer he needed.

"What does that matter if you don't want to?"

She sniffled. He put his arm around her shoulder and hugged his best friend to him.

"I don't want to give someone else my baby! I can't give up on her. I can't..." She was crying onto his collar as she spoke. He just held onto her, even as snot dripped onto the neck of one of his favorite shirts. All he could do was let her know his was there.

---

Marissa fell asleep crying. When her breathing finally evened out, Parker picked her up and carried her to her bed, pulled the covers up under her chin, and whispered good-night.

He snuck out to the living room and pulled out his phone. He dialed, and his father answered after two rings.

"Dad? I'm staying on Marissa's couch tonight."

"As long as you're only on the couch."

"Really, Dad, if anything of that nature were to happen it would not be when she's in this state."

"Good. How's she holding up?"

"I guess as well as she can. She's tough, but this is really taking its toll on her."

"Take of her. Are your books still here?"

"No, sir. I kinda figured if she couldn't tell me over the phone..."

"I got it. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Bye, Dad."

Parker curled himself onto the couch and pretended to sleep.


	9. The Fights

**AN: I really, really appreciate every single one of the reviews I get. Thanks guys!**

---

Marissa was two and a half weeks pregnant when The Bitch decided she wasn't getting enough attention.

(The Bitch had earned her delightful nickname the day Marissa met her. She was the mean, possessive little cheerleader Parker was dating and whose name Marissa could not be bothered to remember.)

Parker was trying to cajole Marissa into eating spinach lasagna ("I don't _care_ how much folate is in it; it looks _nasty_!") when The Bitch came charging up to them, looking downright monstrous with her very fake red hair.

"Parker! I kept leaving you voice-mails last night and you never returned my calls! What is wrong with you?" Parker looked up and his amused grin faded.

"I'm sorry, Kat; I forgot to charge my phone."

"Oh, yeah, I bet. I think you're lying. You were with her, weren't you? You haven't eaten lunch with me in two weeks!"

"I thought you would understand. You heard what happened, didn't you?"

"Oh, I heard what happened. And I also heard that you stood me up last Friday because you were at _her_ house."

Parker's face twisted in confusion. "Last Friday? Oh, Jesus, Kat, I'm sorry! I would have called, but I completely forgot we were gonna go see a movie. It's just that Marissa-"

"Ugh! It's all Marissa this, Marissa that! Who are you dating, me or her?" Parker shot to his feet.

"Kat, she's pregnant!"

"You should know! I bet it's yours! We're over!"

"Fine! She was my best friend way before I met you!"

The Bitch stormed off, as mad as when she came. Parker stood in place for a second, and then sat back down where he belonged, at Marissa's side. She looked at him with tears in her eyes and put a hand on his back. _I'm sorry. Is this my fault?_

"You were right. I'm better off without her."

---

By the next Monday, The Bitch was on to somebody new. Marissa was convinced The Bitch had only broken up with Parker in order to jump the captain of the soccer team, and Parker was inclined to agree.

No one could tell you where the rumor started, but on the Wednesday of Marissa's eighth week, it reached its peak. Marissa was walking from her physics class on on side of the campus, Parker from his trigonometry class on the other, when the quarterback who replaced Parker on the team said something so stupid it made some people wonder if he was smart enough to be on the football team.

"Hey, Parker, can I do your girlfriend after she pops out your kid?"

Parker turned around and slammed his fist into the replacement's temple.

"You shut your fucking mouth or I'll rip it off your face!"

"Why bother? We all know she's lying and you're the one that got her pregnant!"

Parker launched himself at the replacement and started hitting any thing he could reach. He was in a haze of rage, even as the replacement started pounding on him. He brought up a foot and kicked, and the replacement doubled over trying to breath. Parker grabbed him by the hair, wrenched him forward, and slammed his head into the wall. The replacement fell to the floor, holding his head and moaning. Parker was about to go after him again when he heard Marissa's voice over the melee around him. He turned around and saw her trying to get through the crowd, so he stepped toward her, but his leg didn't want to move and he dropped to the floor.

Marissa broke through the throng and kneeled beside him.

"Hey, hey. Come on, get up, big guy, let's get you to the nurse. Come on. That's it, you can do it."

Parker drug himself to a sitting position, Marissa ducked under the arm closest to her, and together they pulled themselves up. Just as they did, the spectators scattered when two teachers came marching up.

---

After Parker's suspension was served, the rumor seemed to die down, perhaps out of fear. Peace returned, as far as it could, to Marissa and Parker, and Marissa found her nightmares were starting to change now that she was going to a support group for survivors of rape.

Marissa was twelve weeks along, with just a tiny bump when she laid on her back speaking of the new life incubating inside her, and she was sprawled out on the couch watching a National Geographic special.

"Your couch is _comfy._ You are evicted." Parker looked over from the kitchen.

"Then you get no popcorn! It's _my_ couch."

"No, it's not. Is mine." The beep of the microwave punctuated her claim. Parker put the steaming popcorn in a bowl and walked to the living room. He was going to take his spot back by force, but then he saw how relaxed Marissa looked and he lost his nerve. He resigned himself to sitting on the floor.

This put the popcorn in easy reach of Marissa's grabby hands. She swiped a handful, and he looked at her with the most pathetic mix of resignation and devotion she'd ever seen. He couldn't be human with those eyes! He _had_ to be a puppy.

She sat up and patted the seat beside her.

"Don't be a dope. Get your butt up here."

He may have been a puppy, but he was an obedient puppy. As soon as he was settled, Marissa plopped back down and cozied herself with her head in his lap. He was surprised for just a moment, and then his hand was absent-mindedly petting her hair.

Marissa failed to hold in her sigh of contentment. He was such a sweetie. How could The Bitch just dump him as coldly as she did?

She looked up at him without moving her head too much. She was really lucky she had him. He'd made it possible to get past the nightmare, even if it was a long road back to being whole. She just wished there was some way to catch the demon who had raped her. She knew it would weigh on Parker's mind if he could neither keep it from happening nor give his friend justice.

_Half him. Half him._

Jesus Christ, that was it! She knew her young life was a blessing!

"Amniocentesis!" Parker paused the television.

"What?"

Marissa jumped up.

"In three weeks I can get amniocentesis done, and then we'll have her DNA, and that means they'll have _his_ DNA! Then they'll find him! I knew I was given her for a reason! My baby will help me put him away, Parker!"


End file.
